


Eurovisions Ams Brutal

by BrutalWarElf



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Eurovision Song Contest - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrutalWarElf/pseuds/BrutalWarElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most brutal death metal guitarists have a very camp tradition that leaves the rest of the band confused as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eurovisions Ams Brutal

**Author's Note:**

> For theadventuresofkodpiece and danger-tits

Nathan wondered if he was still half asleep when he stepped out of his bedroom early on Saturday afternoon. Toki streaked past him in the hallway, trailing a Norwegian flag behind him and wearing his country’s colours like war paint all over his face. Too slow to react with the fog of overly long sleep still clouding his mind, Nathan only managed a ‘what the fuck’ when Toki had already disappeared into the living room.

Taking a detour through the kitchen to grab a bag of chips by manner of breakfast, Nathan made his way to the living room eventually, where alarmingly camp music blared through the door before he had even opened it. Transferring the bag of chips to the hand that was already holding his book and reading glasses to be able to open the door, Nathan considered retreating to his room. If Toki was going to be blasting this gay-ass music there was no way he could concentrate on his reading.

‘Mornings, Nathans.’ Skwisgaar greeted in passing, looking unduly majestic while wearing the Swedish flag around his shoulders like a cape.

‘Eh,’ Nathan frowned in the general direction of the kitchen until Skwisgaar returned with an armful of booze and snacks. What the hell was going on? Toki and Skwisgaar sometimes got like this over ice hockey, but the season was long since over.

‘You just goings to looks at me like a dumb animals or ams you comings?’ Skwisgaar held the door open for him with his elbow. He smiled inwardly at Nathan’s dumbfounded expression, wondering what their frontman would make of Toki and his annual tradition.

‘Alrights, snacks!’ Toki hopped over the back of the sofa to unburden Skwisgaar. Settling in on the couch he distracted himself from the generic hip hop number that was currently playing by slapping slices of cheese onto the crackers for his bandmates. This music was not what he was usually into, but getting into fights over national pride with Skwisgaar more than made up for that.

Nathan sat down with the guitarists, in part out of curiosity for what they were watching, but mostly because Toki’s crackers looked damn tasty. He was not going to miss out on the assortment of French delicacies they had brought because of some dumb music. The wine Skwisgaar opened made his mouth water despite the early hour.

‘So what’s going on here?’ He asked around a mouthful of cheese. ‘Why are you two dressed like a bunch of hooligans?’

‘Tokis, explains to Nathans de awesomeness what ams de Eurovisions Songs Contest.’ Skwisgaar grabbed the remote and turned the sound down to a more bearable level so they could talk. He handed Toki a beer before pouring himself and Nathan glasses of wine.

‘The Eurovisions am all abouts channelings you hate for other European country. It ams war in which countries express thems loathings for each other by not appreskating thems musics.’ Toki explained.

‘You make it sound a lot more brutal than this racket would suggest... How do you even put hate into a fucking power ballad?’ Nathan commented, delicately sipping the excellent vintage.

‘De hate and de backstabbings comes at de end, when de countries give as little points as poskible to de ones dey hates.’ Skwisgaar clarified.

‘So it’s a European bitchfight over really crappy music.’ Nathan recapped.

‘Basically, yeah.’ Toki shrugged.  

‘And why are the two most brutal death metal guitarists in the world watching this?’

‘Because I wants to sees Norway crush Swedens!’ Toki crushed Nathan’s bag of chips in his fist to drive home his point. Norway had won two years previous, and he had not allowed Skwisgaar to live it down for days. It was glorious.

‘Ja, I kinds of hopes Norways gets dems ass beat by Swedens, and de Dutch, too. Pfft.’ Skwisgaar sipped his wine with a disdainful expression.

‘Too bads Finlands don’ts gots no metal this year!’ Toki lamented.

‘Ja, dat was somethings else, right, Tokis?’

‘Lordi was the best contestants evers!’

At least they seemed to be able to agree on that. They had lost Nathan, who could not stop shaking his head as he removed his page marker from his book. It must be a European thing. Still, he could stick around and tune out the music as long as Toki kept the French cheese coming his way. Toki quietly tittering over a change in the music made Nathan eventually look up at the TV again.

 ‘They looks like the fuckings teletubbies!’ Toki was openly giggling by now, but he swayed to the catchy tune regardless. He supported Norway out of a mix of patriotism and an affinity for the song, but he had to admit that the Icelandic entry was infectious.

‘Dear God, that’s gay,’ Nathan exclaimed at six men in equally eye-wrenching suits forming the word LOVE with their arms.

‘Oh, shuts up you two. Don’ts forgets dat de songs contest ams a driving force in spreadings more acceptance and diversities. Ams a goods thing, you dildos. Europe amen’ts the trailsblazers for no-’ Skwisgaar was about to embark on a speech about LBGTQ activism when Toki shushed him.     

‘Oh, is Norway!’ He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume to make everyone suffer through another power ballad to which he bizarrely knew the lyrics.

Skwisgaar watched Toki more than the TV as he quietly sang along with the buff tattooed guy on stage.  

‘And there’s a silence storms insides me lookings for a homes  
I hopes that someone gonna finds me and says that I belongs  
I waits forevers and a lifetimes to finds I not alones  
And there’s a silent storms inside me, and someday I’ll be calm…’

‘Oh, Toki,’ Nathan sighed.

‘Whats? I likes this song!’ Toki said with a defensive shrug when he caught the others looking.

‘You and your big gay heart. ’

‘Ah, screw you all off. Norway’s song is the best!’ He tilted his chin stubbornly.

 

****

 

Toki startled when Pickles ruffled his hair out of the blue, and grabbed the offending hand, ready to haul him across the back of the couch before recognising the familiar wristband.

‘Oh, is you, Pickle. You comings to watch the Eurovisions with us, too?’ Toki asked excitedly.

‘Sure, why naht. Move over, Nath’n. Why ain’t anyone singin’ in their native lehnguages? Theht’d make it even more halehrious.’ Pickles happily accepted the beer Toki passed over Nathan’s book.

Dissolving into a heated discussion about which European language sounded the dumbest, Toki and Skwisgaar nearly came to blows within a timespan of five minutes over the insults they flung at each other.

‘… just admits you Swedish sound like you try to speak Bokmål whiles deepthroatings a dildos!’ Toki jeered.

‘And how woulds you know whats dat sound like, huh?’ Skwisgaar wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Is called image-ninations. You shoulds tries it some times.’ Toki stuck out his tongue.

‘I don’ts needs imageginations, because I actuallies gets laid!’

‘Oh, you takes that back, you jerkface!’ Toki made a grab at the front of Skwisgaar’s shirt, sending chips and beer bottles flying.

‘Hey, assholes, quit your bitching right now or you’re sitting on either side of the sofa!’ Nathan elbowed Toki without looking up from his book.

Toki grudgingly let Skwisgaar go, glaring daggers at his superior smirk.

‘Woah, look at thosche titsch! What isch thisch, daytime porn?’ Murderface sidled up to the TV after a meeting with Charles, undoubtedly about some Planet Piss related bullshit or a media disaster of some sort.

‘No, this is war. But holy shit you’re right!’ Nathan gawked at the Slavic girls seductively churning butter and washing clothes on stage. ‘I would like to officially thank the Polish nation for this act.’ He laughed.

 

****

 

When Charles strode past the living room he wondered what the sudden uncharacteristic quiet from the boys meant and decided to investigate. Catching a last boob-shot before the end of the song, he knew enough.

‘Hello boys. What are you, ah, watching?’ It looked like the Eurovision Song Contest if he was not mistaken, but what was the greatest metal band in the world doing watching that? Well, the Polish girls explained part of it.

‘War in Europe. It’s brutal and gay at the same time.’

‘And there’s lotsch of titsch!’

‘Oh, is that, ah, that British talk show host? He’s a funny fellow.’ Charles let a faint smile play across his face at the snarky commentator’s jokes.

‘Comes sit with us, Charles!’ Toki patted the tiny free space between him and Skwisgaar.

Charles decided to humour them for once and squeezed onto the couch, accepting one of the surprisingly sophisticated snacks Toki was assembling.  

‘Holy schit! That lady’sch got a fucking beard!’

‘No way, dood!’ Pickles let out an astonished laugh.

‘What the hell?! That’s the freakiest thing I’ve seen all week, and that’s saying something!’

 ‘Oh, gets over yourselves, it amen’ts freakies.’ Skwisgaar sighed irritably. ‘Is called genderqueers, looks it up in a dictionaries. Oh, wait, I forgets, dey don’ts teach you to reads in Americans schools.’

Charles felt Toki shake with childish glee beside him.

‘Skwisgaar, Skwisgaar- If it isn’t freaky… would you fuck that person? Eh?’ Nathan asked with a sly grin.

‘Ja, I probablies does her.’ Skwisgaar shrugged. ‘Looks at her. Ams a beautifuls ladies whats haves musikskal talents, too.’

‘Yeuh, I sorta see whet you mean.’ Pickles agreed, cocking his head at the screen.

‘Oh my god, you guysch are scho fucking grossch and gay – I’m outta here.’ Murderface got up with a grimace and left the room.

‘Goods riddance!’ Toki called at his retreating back. ‘It ams startings to smell a little too much like piss and olds farts with you arounds!’

Skwisgaar high-fived Toki over Charles’ head, the earlier disagreement over their respective languages forgotten. They continued creatively insulting Murderface during the commentary and Germany’s entry. Leaning over the back rest behind Charles, they whispered in conspirational tones in the mix of Nordic languages and English that had evolved between them over the course of a decade.

‘Fy faen, he ams such a fittetryne, he should just dra til helvete…’ Toki rolled his eyes.

‘Oh, dat’s harsh, Tokis,’ Skwisgaar grinned, ‘he can’ts help it he ams such a inavlade kuksugare. But du har rätt, he cans just ät skit och dö.’

’Boys.’ Charles admonished.

‘Ah, screws you, Ch-‘

‘Tokis! Don’ts talks to de butler like dat! Stops talkings altogether, 'cause here ams de songs whats ams going to win!’

‘You sees, that’s where you ams wrong, because the Swedish songs-’

‘I swears to Odins I will gags you with dat flags if you keeps blabbings.’

‘I likes to sees you try with you puny-’

Charles had to duck when Skwisgaar started slapping at Toki with his long arms.

‘I’m trying to READ!’

Nathan picked Toki up and shifted into the now vacant spot, dumping Toki between him and Pickles where Skwisgaar could not reach him. For good measure he crammed a wadded up corner of the Norwegian flag into Toki’s mouth under muffled giggles. Skwisgaar gave a satisfied hum.

‘Sahrry Skwisgare, d’yew seriously think theht sahng is gonna win? It’s the millionth fecking power ballad.’ Pickles asked.

‘Well, whats am you rootings for, Pickle?’

‘Ye think Europe’s ready fer a bearded lady?’

‘Already hads a trans lady winners a couples of year back, so ja. And obviouslies everybodies loves her.’

 

**** 

 

‘I can’ts believe we lost to de Dutch, pffft.’ Skwisgaar grouched to his only remaining bandmates.

Nathan had sought the quiet of his bedroom when the snacks ran out, and Charles had resumed his work.

‘Ugh, I can’ts believe we lost to Swedens!’ Toki complained in an echo of Skwisgaar.

He snatched Pickles’ bottle of Scotch and took a long draught before passing it on to Skwisgaar.

‘Who cehres, the bearded lady is Queen of Europe!’ Pickles threw popcorn like confetti over the guitarists, who drunkenly slumped against each other under their flags.

Toki pulled the bottle from Skwisgaar’s lips, laughing as whiskey spilled down his chin. Skwisgaar shot up to deliver some sort of retribution, but Toki danced out of his reach, waving his flag behind him. Pickles relieved him of the bottle as he twirled past, joining in on the chorus of the winning song as Toki spun him around.

This was the gayest day since he left the glam metal scene, and it was pretty awesome.

 

 

  

 

 

 

 


End file.
